“Please do not enter before 11:00 a.m.” The sign, posted on the outer door of the negative pressure room, was held up with the tape typically used for bandages. I looked at the clock on the wall: 6:00 a.m. on a summer day during my intern year.

A drop of sweat formed on my brow as I peered through the glazed windows of the door, trying and failing to make out the figure sleeping inside, breathing “private air,” who did not want to be disturbed. I turned my attention to the vital signs chart and medication record that were resting on a cart next to the door. Last night's blood sugar level had been in the mid-400s, and it looked like all medications had been refused.